


All The World's A Stage

by startrekkingaroundasgard



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, Thor (Movies)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Elizabethan Era, Alternate Universe - Historical, Aromantic, Gen, Genderfluid Loki (Marvel), Period Typical Attitudes, References to Shakespeare
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-30
Updated: 2020-01-30
Packaged: 2021-02-27 11:28:11
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,501
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22476382
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/startrekkingaroundasgard/pseuds/startrekkingaroundasgard
Summary: The reader is an actor at The Globe. When Lord Friggason comes backstage uninvited, he discovers that she is not a man but indeed a woman masquerading as one to follow her dreams of being an actor. He invites her back to his estate for dinner where they find they have an awful lot more in common than they first realised.
Relationships: Loki (Marvel) & Reader, Loki (Marvel)/Reader
Comments: 8
Kudos: 31
Collections: Marvel Fluff Bingo





	All The World's A Stage

Compliments flew as your fellow actors patted each other heartily on the back, congratulating one another on a performance well done. One of Her Royal Highness’s consorts and confidants had been in the audience tonight; if he spoke highly of the show, which it seemed certain he would, then the Queen herself may grace The Globe with her presence in the evenings to come. 

So busy in the celebrations were the other men backstage that no one noticed you take a candle from the side. You wove through the rowdy crowd and slipped into a small props cupboard - disused by the company in favour for a larger space but perfect for your needs. 

Stripping off the extravagant layers of your costume was not an easy feat but one you had mastered a long time ago. Your fingers made quick work of the lace that held the ornate corset tightly in place - no expenses spared here at The Globe - and you breathed a sigh of relief as the cool air rushed back into your lungs. 

Reams of fabric pooled at your feet as you removed further layers of your costume, until all that remained were your undergarments. With a damp cloth, you removed the excessive makeup from your face then finally took a moment to look at your reflection in the warped mirror on the wall. What you saw was enough to make you scream. 

You spun around to the man at the door to check he was not a ghost, desperately kicking the pile of clothes at your feet in search for your shirt in the process. You found the oversized blouse and threw it on, arms crossed over your chest in hope of displaying some sort of confidence. “My lord, I… I didn’t see you there.”

“You’re a woman.”

Panic struck you, rooted you to the floor and held your chest in the tightest vice. This couldn’t be happening. You’d worked so hard for it to be ruined now. Forcing a calm expression onto your face, imagining this to be nothing other than a scene in a play, for there was nowhere else you felt more comfortable, you said smoothly, “No, no, Sir. I merely play a woman on stage. There are no women in the company.”

The dark haired man stepped into your little cupboard, closing the door behind him. “For my many failings, I am quite certain I can tell a man from a woman." 

Your heart began to race. The glint of a dagger caught your eye on a nearby table but you quashed that thought immediately. If performing these plays had taught you anything it was that murder would only cause you more problems. "I assure you that you are mistaken, good sir. The theatre is no place for a woman.”

He took another step towards you, pausing as you flinched. Shadows still covered his face but you were sure a hint of something soft, sympathy or concern, flashed over his features. He held his hands in the air, claiming peaceful intentions. “I mean you no harm, my dear. I am a gentleman of honour.”

They were often the worst for it, though. 

Resigned to your fate, you bowed your head and muttered, “I am at your mercy, my Lord.”

“Grace my table with your presence tonight. We shall sample delicacies from the far East.”

You dared to look up, surprised to find the lord in exactly the same place he had been before. There was an openness to his body, a restrained confidence that remained vaguely threatening despite his gentle tone. “In return for what?”

“The knowledge of why you do this shall be sufficient payment. Dress.” He gave no time to argue. He pulled a ring from his finger and tossed it over. “My carriage shall wait for you and bring you to my estate. It bears this seal.”

“How would you wish me clothed, Sir?”

The lord regarded you strangely. “However you best desire.” He eyed the clothes in the corner, your simple trousers and jacket and nodded. “Those will be suitable, if you are comfortable in them. Good evening.”

He turned and left without another word, leaving you confused and more than a little concerned. Who was this man and what did he want? No matter how much you hoped you could take him at his word, the chances were that he was like the others and would want far more than simple company. The few who knew your truth believed that you were whoring yourself on the stage as an actor so saw no reason why that wouldn’t extend to private liaisons with them. 

Whatever he wanted, there was no point in waiting around and delaying the inevitable. You dressed quickly, adjusting your clothes and applying a light makeup to pass as one of the other men. They bid you farewell, unaware of your inner turmoil, and you made your way to the carriage. 

***

“Please, sit.” He pulled the chair out for you and, too stunned by the gesture to respond, you sat without argument. 

This wasn’t the first regal household you’d visited. Before earning a position at The Globe, your smaller touring company had scraped ends meet by performing for low level gentry. This was a glorious palace compared to those places. Every wall was covered in large portraits of imposing men and beautiful ladies. The furniture was of the highest quality you had ever seen and you were certain that the corners and edges were inlaid with gold. 

You were so out of place here, a rusty penny amid a collection of crown jewels. 

“My Lord, may I speak frankly?” you asked, unable to shake the feeling of being watched by the picture of a large, bearded man above the fireplace. A military man if ever you’d seen one. He wore a patch over his eye, stood with a sword in his hand. There was, no doubt, a glorious tale behind his obvious wounds but something in his smug expression made you wonder how much was truth and how heavily he leaned towards fiction to bolster the opinion of himself. 

Opposite you, unaware of your musings on the old man in the portrait, the lord nodded. “Of course. You may speak without fear of retribution here.”

“Why did you bring me here?”

“For dinner, of course. And to talk. I find food far more enjoyable with good company. I had a large family once but my parents passed a few years past. With my brother off travelling the seas on the _HMS Milano_ , the estate is quite empty now.”

“Are you married?”

He leant back in his large chair, a smirk playing on his lips. “Are you asking?”

“Well, yes. Wait, no. I mean -”

“I jest,” the lord said, silencing you with his hand. “There was someone once but our union was forbidden. He was shipped off on a colony ship and I never heard take of him again. What fate befell your husband, my dear? ”

Almost choking on your soup, you wiped your mouth on the softest cloth you’d ever touched and asked stiffly, “I beg your pardon, Sir?”

“The chain around your neck. Family rings are passed to the son and while you seem happy to present yourself as a man that ring was not your mother’s. Therefore it must belong to your husband. You do not wear it on your finger but keep it close to heart so I assume some awful fate must have befallen him." 

"You speak with a lot of certainty for someone who does not know me.”

He shrugged. “I meant no offence. I have never been one for treading lightly around an issue. I am merely curious.”

“I lost my husband to Ireland,” you said, after a moment’s pause. You took a bread roll and tore off a piece, not to satisfy hunger - you were far from interested in the food, right now - but as a reason not to meet your host’s gaze. 

“My sympathies.”

You bit back a laugh. It had been long enough that you could find humour in the dire truth, now, even though it still hurt. “He still walks this Earth, just with a pretty young thing by his side. However, he was officially declared deceased by his brother who wanted his share of the inheritance. He was always fond of me and gifted me a fair amount, enough to live on.”

“Then why go on stage? If you could settle for a life of comfort, you needn’t work to survive.”

“I was doing this long before my husband left, my Lord. A woman’s place in this world is on her knees for her husband and that was no place I wanted to be. He took his mistresses and I turned a blind eye to indulge my dreams." 

"Surely he still disapproved of your acting? The risk to his name, his reputation, if anyone discovered the truth…”

“We were friends since childhood. It was decided long before we understood that we would marry. He knew if we separated that I would end up on the streets without him. As my oldest companion, he agreed to hold up the pretence for me.”

“You never loved him?”

You shook your head. It was something you had considered many times over but no matter how you approached the idea the conclusion was always the same. “As family, my lord. But as a husband? No.”

“Was there another?”

“Never. My only love is being on stage.” The Lord did not mock you. He did not try to convince you that there would be a man for you. He just nodded understandingly. “Why did you come to see me backstage tonight?”

“To congratulate you on an incredible portrayal. I am a frequent patron of The Globe and had never seen anything quite like you.”

“Well, it’s easier for me to play a woman than it would be for a man.”

“Perhaps. However, it isn’t easy for anyone to bare their soul and enrapture an entire theatre as you did.”

“Your compliments, though well appreciated, are no doubt unfounded, my lord.” You rubbed the back of your neck humbly.

“Nonsense. I passed my compliments to the company director and intend to do so to Her Highness, The Queen upon our next meeting as well.”

An earlier fear returned as you convinced yourself once again that he wanted something. No one was so kind without motive. You set the silver cutlery down, half considering slipping it into your pocket as one fork was worth over three months’ wages, and rose to your feet. “Thank you for the dinner, Lord Friggason, but I must go. Your name is under a portrait in the hallway,” you added, sensing his surprise. 

“One more moment, if you would,” he said. This was still his home so you granted him respect and paused to allow his question. “Why do you dress as a man?”

“I am a widower, by law at least, with no interest in remarrying. It is safer and easier for me to live as a gentleman than risk walking alone at night or being pursued by a man whose goal is to make me slave to his offspring." 

As you pushed in the chair, you caught sight of the portrait of a beautiful woman. Hair dark as night, eyes bright with mischief. She was so similar to Lord Friggason that she had to be related. Drawn by forces you didn’t understand, you crossed the room to the picture and had the urge to kneel before it. Instead, you studied the soft face and realised something shocking. 

You turned back to the lord, who had a well disguised look of panic on his face. Softly, you asked, "Why do you?”

Many emotions crossed his face, fear underlying them all, but he quickly settled on a coy smile. However, his hands trembled in his lap and the earlier brash confidence had noticeably diminished. He gestured towards the chair beside him and only spoke once you were sat. “I do not dress as a woman. I am one. Sometimes. It changes day by day. My father disapproved, called it nothing more than childish antics. My mother encouraged it, though. However, since she passed, I have found it beneficial to hide that side of me.”

“Why?”

“For the very same reasons you hide your true self. Without my mother to shield me from the harsh words, I became painfully aware how other I was. I am the head of this house now and cannot allow others to perceive me as less. There is much I intend to do to help the people on my estate but I cannot implement my schemes if those whose assistance I require doubt me.”

You were bowled over by the level of trust he was placing in you. This sort of knowledge would ruin him if it got out. That was why he sought you out, you realised. You were in the same position and understood better than anyone else in the world. A kindred soul. 

Too overwhelmed by the revelation to really dwell on what it mean, you focused on something else he said instead. “Schemes? That sounds decidedly chaotic. What have you planned?”

“I wish to educate women, to help people like you leave loveless marriages and offer my lands as a safe haven for all who are lost and without a home in this world.”

You were entirely enraptured by his words, by the possibilities that this could present not just to you but others in a similar boat. However, you didn’t want to show quite how enthusiastically you were willing to back Lord Friggason quite yet. “That is truly anarchic of you.”

His face fell, the bright light and excitement draining from his face. “Yes, I suppose you are right.”

“I want to be a part of it." 

"I beg your pardon?" 

Meeting his wide green eyes, you said, "If you are serious about this -”

“I am.”

“In that case, I want to help you. The laws and restrictions which govern our society are wrong. If you’ll have me, I would offer what skills I have to make this dream of yours a reality.”

“You know we’d be risking arrest - execution - if anyone found out. You would lose everything that you’ve worked for at The Globe. They will brand us witches.”

It was a terrifying thought but the prospect of what he was suggesting was all too exciting to dwell on that. You faced the same punishments every day but performing as a man at The Globe. “If a woman can govern this country then I see no reason why we cannot go forth with this scheme.”

Lord Friggason smiled, the first truly genuine smile you’d seen on his face all evening. “I knew there was a reason I liked you.” He raised a glass of wine. “To a painful, fiery death.”

You clinked your glass against his. “To new beginnings.”


End file.
